Tag Archives: short story

First Day of National Novel Writing Month 2012

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I have decided to do National Novel Writing Month. Thank You to all my friends who encouraged me.

So I loaded Scrivener and started a new short story project. Stared at the empty screen. Panicked when I realized I couldn’t remember any of my ideas for a short story. Took a deep breath and calmed down enough to recall I have been wanting to write a short pre-writing sort of story about the death of the character’s grandmother.

I have thus far written one sentence and I don’t know what else I am going to write. Maybe I should have decided I was going to do this earlier, did a bit more planning. LOL

But I am less panicked now and I know some of what I want to write. I am not going to do the traditional sort of NaNo. Instead I want to write five 10,000 word stories.

According to some people, that makes me a NaNo rebel. I don’t think I agree. I am still going to write 50,000 and I disagree with people who think 50,000 words worth of short stories is easier 50,000 words worth of a novel. It’s still 50,000 words.

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National Novel Writing Month 2012

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I did National Novel Writing Month last year, but I didn’t finish until well after the New Year. I did write more daily than I thought possible, so it wasn’t a loss.

This year, with NaNoWriMo starting the day after tomorrow, I am om the fence about whether or not to do NaNoWriMo this year. Last year was an experience, but I am not sure it is one I want to repeat. I was on the fence even before Sandy arrived and destroyed transportation, likely adding lots more time to my daily commute. So I will probably have a lot less time than last year to do this. Also, large chunks of the city are without power . . . so yeah. Now I am even less sure.

Plus, it will mean taking time away from editing. That’s a positive thing, IMO. I could use time away from it. Editing sucks.

IF I do decide on participating National Novel Writing Month, I will probably write five 10,000 word stories. I have never written so much as one 10,000 word story before and read hardly any. So it won’t be easy. Short stories are their own little world, one I don’t usually gravitate to naturally, so it will be a challenge.

It’s still 50,000 words. ;) It means writing one story or 10,000 words every five days. Which, yeah, feels scary just thinking about it. Advice, thoughts, anyone?

I don’t actually have ideas for five long-ish short stories, but I imagine they will come. (Yes, pantster, me!)

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Free Reads on Google Play

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So I was searching through the books in Google Play. I went through various menus, Featured, Top Selling, New Arrivals in Fiction, New Arrivals in Non-Fiction, until I arrived at Top Free.

I expected this section to be filled with classics. That is, books whose copyright had expired, along with a few other, more recently published books. I was wrong.

Well, not completely. The Time Machine by H.G. Wells topped free books the list. There were a few other titles, too, that I didn’t recognize and could possibly be classics. (I am not an expert on the classics.)

No, mostly it was bonus stories from writers I’ve heard of. Patterson, Christine Warren, Jenna Black and others. Which surprises me. I didn’t get any and I suppose they are complete stories, just short. I usually go looking for those bonus short stories on the author’s website. A couple were more novella sized – around 100 pages. Google Play is probably a pretty good outlet for them, too.

Plus! There was also a whole free book by Jayne Ann Krentz.

I didn’t see a lot of a self-published books, which surprised me. At least none I recognized.

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Friday Flash: Dust Rider Born

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Part six in my Friday flash series experiment! Parts one, two, three, four and five here.

Gazelle woke slowly, delightfully warm and dry and comfortable. She kicked at the blanket, but the whole bed shook and whined. It sounded like a pup.

Her eyes flew open. The sky overhead was a bright, cloudless blue. She sat up and froze. She lay not in her bed or even a patch of grass, but on a gigantic web stretching across the branches of dozens of trees.

A dust devil lay curled up across her legs. No, in her legs. No –

“It’s part of you now,” someone said.

She looked up to see the dust rider who had come to take her. “Part of me?”

“It will you let you go eventually.” His lips curved into an amused smile. “Like a boy’s balls dropping.”

“Like what?” What was wrong with this man?

“Until than you are joined at the tail. So to speak.”

“What!”

He laughed. “Don’t kick your devil when he’s asleep. It bites.”

Joined at the tail? She eyed the baby devil and tried to move her legs. The wound-up dust devil uncurled a little and shifted; she moved forward on the web. And though she couldn’t see her legs, still the web felt rough and sticky under her.

The baby devil lifted its sleek, pointy head and yowled. It had a mouthful of sharp, white fangs.

“He’s probably hungry,” the dust rider said and pointed at the far edge of the web. “Take him over there.”

“How?” demanded Gazelle.

But the dust rider only smiled.

Gazelle took a deep breath and pretended her legs weren’t encased inside the dust devil. The baby devil responded, it’s head and body undulating under her. She grabbed on with both hands as it crawled forward to the other end of the web.

Large stripes of raw, bloody meat hung from thinner branches above them. The baby dust devil swallowed the carcass of a piglet whole. It turned than to look at her out of dark, unfathomable eyes and rubbed itself against her chest.

Gazelle gulped and touched its head. Only then did she realize her chest seemed to have gone flat. She frowned down at it. She even wore a flight suit, like the dust rider worn. But who -?

“It’s your skin now,” said the dust rider.

He had followed her across the web and now stood watching a few feet away.

“I – what?” Lord, but couldn’t she say anything else to him?

“Your skin,” he repeated. “We are not human anymore. Your breasts will come back when you give birth.”

She gaped. Not human.

“The stories are true. We really are gods. You are a very lucky girl, Gazelle, to be chosen.”

The End!

There might be people who want more. I know there could be more, that I could turn this into a much longer work. But, honestly, I am done. I want to get back to normal Friday flash fiction.

(Unless I turn this into a Tuesday serial. Still thinking about that.)

Friday Flash: Dust Rider Eaten

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Part five in my Friday flash series experiment! Parts one, two, three and four here. Part six next week. ;)

He freed Gazelle and she jumped down. The dirt was firm, undoubtedly tamped down from the passage hundreds of dust devils.

“That way.” The dust rider pointed at people clustered around the bonfire. “Go.”

She hoisted her bag over one shoulder and walked. She was stiff, achy and cold from the long ride. She hoped she could sleep soon.

She pushed as close to the fire as she dared; it felt good on her chilled skin.

“Careful!” A boy about her own age grabbed her elbow and yanked her back.

“What -”

“You almost stepped on them.” He pointed at the ground.

Gazelle looked down. Eggs. Large, sand-colored, vibrating eggs lay in a heap. They were so close to the fire it was a wonder they didn’t burn. Or cook. Maybe this was an odd dust rider cooking method. She thought longingly of scrambled eggs.

She didn’t know how she’d missed them before.

Even as she watched, a tiny crack appeared in the egg in front of her. A small bit of shell fell away and a slender brown tail slipped through. It waved wildly, banging itself against the shell, and the shell broke apart. A small, glistening wet dust devil cried into the night air.

Gazelle gaped. A dust devil hatching. Who would have guessed?

All around her, the other eggs hatched. Soon the air was filled with the shrill screeching of the new-born dust devils.

The one she was watching suddenly quieted, studied her with one blue eye and then leaped at her. She stumbled back and threw up an arm over her face.

Claws tore into her scalp and sharp teeth tore into her shoulder. Gazelle screamed. It thrust its strong, slender tail into her mouth.

Gazelle scrabbled at the creature. But her fingers slipped on the wet scales and she could not pull free.

She bit the creature’s tail and sharp pain bloomed on her shoulder. Her sight went dark and she knew she was dying.

They’ll tell Papa I died during training.  

The baby devil spit saliva on her shoulder. It rolled down her back, leaving only cool numbness behind.

Treacherous Rider.

Friday Flash: Dust Devils’ Lawn

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the devil’s lawn

Part four in my Friday flash series experiment! Parts one and two and three here.

Gazelle handed the dust rider her single knapsack and watched him strap into the dust devil’s harness. She wore her heaviest canvas jacket and wondered how a dust rider could be so daft as to insist on something so heavy in summer. She was going to melt like a pat of butter.

The dust devil flicked long, curling ears at his rider. He smiled, patted its head and spoke to her. “Climb on up. I will strap you in first.”

Mud-colored spines ran along the sides of the devil. She put one foot on it and clambered up to the saddle. The dust rider showed her where to put her legs, then looped a harness over her shoulders and leashed her to the saddle. Like she was a cow or something, too stupid to know when to stay still.

She scowled at it. The leather trapped her as surely the gold paid for her.

The dust rider hoisted himself in front of her and strapped himself in. He did not, she noticed sourly, use the shoulder harness on himself.

He caressed the dust devil’s ears. “Fly!”

It reared up, roiling under her like a fishing boat caught in a storm. Gazelle fisted her hands, fingers digging into her own skin. She would not clutch at the dust rider. She wouldn’t.

Miles of long, sleek brown skin stretched out behind her. The wind from the dust devil’s launch rocked tree branches and blew her mother’s skirts up.

She watched her family farm become smaller and smaller until it was a mere spec on the ground. They flew above the clouds and she could see nothing but white fluff. Her ears froze and then burned. The devil was a comforting warmth under her.

Gazelle didn’t know how long they flew, but the sun set. The rider handed her some hard biscuits from somewhere.

It was still dark when they started descending. There was a gigantic grassy space, enclosed by wire fences and lit by dozens of torches. Many dust devils gathered on the ground. A small group of young people like her huddled in the middle, close to a big bonfire.

“The devils’ lawn!” the dust rider announced.

As a side note, I think this one might be least stand alone out of all them so far.

Friday Flash: Dust Rider Bought

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eye of the devil

Part three in my Friday flash series experiment! Parts one and two here.

“Gazelle!” her mother called.


She took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her gray cotton pants and walked out the front door.

Up-close, the devil was very impressive. Scary. It turned a single, window-sized, cloud-colored eye toward her.

She stopped at the edge of the porch, staring. Even wrapped around itself like a snake, it was bigger than the house.

The leather-clad dust rider smiled at her. “Gazelle Root?”

She raised her chin. “I am not going with you, sir. My life is here.”

“Gazelle. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a great honor.” Her mother turned to the dust rider, a greedy glint in her eye. “How much is the family’s compensation?”

“Why don’t we talk about that? Inside?”

“Of course. Gazelle, make tea.”

Fuming, Gazelle turned on her foot and stormed to the kitchen. The sitting room was steps from it and voices carried clearly.

She scowled at the pot of boiling water and pictured dumping on the dust rider’s head. Maybe her mother’s, too. Her father, too, for saying nothing at all.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, prepared the tray and carried it into the sitting room.

“Good news,” her mother said. “We settled on 5000 golds for you.”

“I wish you joy,” snapped Gazelle.

Friday Flash: Dust Devil

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Not entirely sure about this one, but here we go. ;)

The dust devil rose on the horizon, where the lake met the river. It wound lazily among the clouds.

She gaped at it for a heartbeat, than snatched the basket of clothes and ran back to the house. Bare feet slid in the mud, but she didn’t dare slow down.

She looked back only once. All the fishing boats were coming in.

Her mother and aunts were in the front yard, shelling peas and laughing.

“It’s coming!” she gasped. “The dust devil. Over the lake.”

Her mother frowned. “Are you sure – you must be. Give me that. Get the children.”

Friday Flash: Deferred Promises

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This idea just came to me.

The white stag raced across the muddy, churned-up meadow, shimmered and disappeared.

Fucking fae.

Fury swept through Hammer. He fisted his hands, wanting to hit something. Preferably the fae. The stupid lying fae – how could he be so stupid?

He knew they lied. Knew he shouldn’t believe the stag’s sweet words.

Hammer turned, slammed his fist into the tree behind him. Pain sang up his arm. He welcomed it, welcomed the splinters. Anything to take his mind off the stag’s betrayal.

He smashed his fist into the tree again. Heard something crack. He looked up and something silver fell to the ground in front of him. A ring.

He bent and picked it up. The words I am sorry were etched around the band.

N is for No Ideas

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It’s not that I’ve no ideas for short stories right now; I’ve several. It’s that I am not entirely sure how to write them down.

Where do I start? What character do I start with?

It’s not like writer’s block (which I don’t believe in anyway.) Writer’s block is supposed to be when a writer has no ideas at all about a story. You stare at the blank page and your mind is blank, too. You got no characters, no plot, no world, nothing. Not even the seed of an idea.

You need to start at the beginning, right? But where is the beginning? That’s the question. I don’t know.

Personally, I think this means I just to think about the story a little bit more. Or maybe I will just write the scenes I do and worry about the beginning later. No one ever said the story has to be written linearly. I could jump around the timeline and piece it all together later.

There is trouble with that approach – making sure all the pieces fit and follow each other and don’t develop a big gaping hole – but I am not sure what else to do.

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